


A Home Out West

by jkateel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Wild West
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkateel/pseuds/jkateel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of stories from the Dragon Age 2 Wild West AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I received a writing prompt for Male Hawke/Anders in a Wild West AU, and boy did it capture my imagination. 
> 
> There's no real continuity or canon to these stories.

Anders could be forgiven for half-believing that Hawke could be in several places at once. Since the man had first arrived on pitch-black horse, with a giant wolf-dog at his heels, he had seen him _everywhere._

One day, Hawke was on the saloon roof, replacing the rotting wood that the rainy season always brought on. The next, he was out selling newspapers on the corner road. Anders saw him out at the local ranches helping brand steer, and again the following evening at the saloon, Hawke winning card game after card game. 

It was a small town, so it made sense Anders would regularly see Hawke. It was just odd how often Anders noticed him — and he hadn’t even _met_ the man.

It was a surprise when Hawke showed up at the clinic one day, but it gave Anders the chance to get a real good look at him for once. He was tall, sunburned, smelled a little like sweat and dog, and he had his shirt open that exposed a lot of tan skin. Anders tried not to look; tried to focus on what he was saying.

That was easy enough after a moment, when Anders had to repeat what he asked for. “You want to see my medicine stores?”

"I’ve been hired as the cook for the next cattle run," Hawke explained with a wry smirk and a voice that made Anders glance at his chest again. "The last man didn’t do much to keep his medical supplies well-stocked."

"You cook too?" Anders asked in disbelief, and Hawke lifted one eyebrow.

"Yes?" he said in a way that made Anders’s flush in embarrassment.

"It’s just," he began, waving a wet hand (Hawke had caught him in the middle of cleaning bandages), and then faltered. How did he explain how he had seen Hawke play carpenter, newspaper salesman, cowboy, and now cook with a knowledge of practical medicine? "You’re… You’re a man of many talents, aren’t you?"

Saying that made his cheeks only grow hotter, but it was worth it when Hawke smiled. “Ah, well, yes,” he said, hands sliding into his pockets as he leaned his hip against Anders’s table. “I picked up a lot of things during the war. They always needed soldiers to play many different roles.”

Anders looked up at him in surprise. He was a soldier too? He had the sudden urge to ask for which side the man had fought for, but then hesitated when he noticed how Hawke was looking away from him, uncomfortable-like. It was an expression Anders had often seen in the mirror, and his heart went out to the man.

"I missed out on that experience," Anders found himself saying gently. Hawke glanced at him. "But I suppose there were always more of a need for doctors."

He had been trying for dry humor, but it instead sounded more like a confession. Anders grew tense, wondering what he had given away, but then he noticed that Hawke was looking him over. Slowly.

Anders felt familiar stirrings at that look, and had to glance away. No telling if Hawke knew what he was doing looking at a man like that. “Let me see what supplies I have in stock,” he croaked out, drying his hands on a clean towel.

"Thank you, Doctor," Hawke murmured as he went into his store room. It didn’t take long to gather the supplies Hawke needed, but it was enough for Anders to compose himself. He didn’t often talk about the war, or often look at a man. Both were dangerous things, and he was trying to stay low nowadays.

Hawke’s lips quirked toward a smile when he returned, handing over bank notes in exchange. “Thanks Doctor,” he said with a tip of his hat before he placed them into his satchel. 

"Safe travels," Anders replied. Hawke moved to go, but the paused. He gave Anders another look, quicker this time, but just as heavy.

"When I get back," he said slowly, while Anders hoped the man couldn’t hear his pounding heart. "Let me buy you a drink."

Anders felt his cheeks flush again. Perhaps he had been wrong; perhaps Hawke did know what he was doing, looking at him like that.

"Alright," he found himself saying without really thinking. But before panic could settle in — what had he done? What if he was reading more into Hawke’s question? —Hawke’s grin effectively cut it off at the pass.

"Well then, Doctor, I’ll see you for drinks then," he said with a wink, and then whistled a tune as he strolled out of the clinic. 

Anders watched him go, realizing what he had done.

Realizing he was just as excited as he was terrified.

He would be seeing Hawke a lot more, either way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Hawke is the Sheriff.

There’s a lot Hawke’s learned about Doctor Anders since he arrived in town months ago. The man hates horses, hates dust, hates being sweaty, hates the salon’s swill, and can’t gamble to save his life. Hawke was never sure why the doctor left the city to come this far out west to help patch up cowboys and birth babies (and calves, in the spring), but he chose to never ask. He was glad the man was there, and that had been enough.

Now Hawke knows why he did.

"Sheriff," Anders greets with a smile when he steps into the clinic. The doctor’s in the middle of cleaning bandages, and his face is flushed red in a way Hawke can appreciate. It’s seems almost a waste that he can’t comment on it. 

Anders senses something is wrong almost immediately. “Hawke, what is it?” he asks, and Hawke sighs under his breath, looking away.

"Some bounty hunters came by today," he mutters. In his peripheral vision, he sees Anders stiffen. 

"Oh?" The doctor asks weakly.

"They were looking for a former soldier," Hawke continues, fiddling with his badge. "A deserter. A… murderer."

Anders swallows audibly. A beat passes, two. Hawke waits, and then looks over when the doctor whispers, “I can… explain.”

Hawke nods. He hope Anders can. He still doesn’t know if he’s risking the safety of the entire town for this one man. This one  _special_ man that he’s been in love with since the moment he showed up with an old medic bag with missing straps, and a patchy coat that had seen better days.

Anders gestures for him to sit. Hawke does, and waits for the doctor to compose his thoughts. 

"When I was in Boston," he begins slowly, and Hawke leans back in his chair to listen. "I met an Indian who went by the name of Justice…"


End file.
